Back To The Beginning
by Alexandra198
Summary: John has been turned into a child, will Sherlock be able to deal with his younger flatmate? ABANDONED, I'm really sorry.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1-Lestrade's POV:**

"Sherlock I called you an hour ago why didn't you get here sooner..." My voice faltered as I took in the sight of Sherlock Holmes holding the hand of a small boy around the age of four who was trying in vain to dig his small heels into the ground, his expression was all pout. From his sandy blond hair to his toes was full stubborn indignation. His blue eyes flashed furiously, the expression made me take a step back. Sherlock looked little better his eyes wore a frown and his mouth was folded in an adult version of the same pout the little boy had.

"'Shlock, want teddy." The blue eyed boy demanded.

"John, as I have explained twice now, teddy is currently undergoing a sanitation project since you spilt sulphuric acid all over it." Replied Sherlock sighing in exasperation.

"Want teddy!" John furiously spat back, eyebrows mashing together chin wobbling as he made an effort not to cry. Sherlock looking at his expression quickly knelt down on the freezing concrete steps and placed the boy a few steps above him until they were eye level. John stood there tears tracking down his face as he made no more effort to control them. Sherlock started speaking to him calmly explaining that teddy had gone on holiday to get better and was currently sick so John couldn't see him but the moment teddy was better John could have him back but he had to be patient and be a good boy for Sherlock. If he was then they could go out for a meal and then go see Mycroft- or as John pronounced it "Mycoff" - later.

Everyone working near the entrance to the Yard stopped and word had spread until nearly all who knew Sherlock or had met him were currently standing staring at the moving little scene before them. The boy stopped crying and began to hiccup lightly as he started to rub his eyes. It seemed his little crying scene had worn him out. Sherlock stood, picked the little boy up, tucked him in his coat and cradled him protectively as John fell asleep. I stood there feeling flabbergasted a feeling I was sure the rest of the Yard felt from their shocked expressions. Sherlock looked up saw us and his eyes lost the soft look he had around the boy and became harder. As his eyes met mine I could see the usual Sherlock Holmes was back.

"Lestrade, tell me about the case, I don't think you called me just to stand there gawping, honestly doesn't the Police have better things to be getting on with than watching me and John?" Came the sarcastic response expected. At this verbal abuse the rest of the Yard scarpered to get back to whatever they were doing before Sherlock appeared. I stepped forward to tell Sherlock about the case then realised that his arms must have been aching from holding the small boy and that the weather was a bit nippy and probably not good for the small child or Sherlock from the looks of his sallow complexion. "Come into my office, tea?" I enquired a lot politer than usual. He glanced from me to the boy and nodded gratefully accepting the cup and chair I waved him into. He sat down adjusted the boy and sipped the tea.

Suddenly a sharp ringing sound emanated from his coat but before Sherlock could even reach for his phone a small voice chirped up and answered the phone. "'lo Mycoff." Came the voice from the child. "No, we's at station" John replied to the voice at the end of the phone. "No, I is not happy, teddy on holiday, sick can't see him until he better" was the boys pitiful response to whatever was being said. Sherlock then interceded snatching the phone from John ignoring the boys yelp of surprise. "What do you want Mycroft." After a moment passed Sherlock began speaking again "Well it was not my fault one of YOUR scientists managed to fire a serum that made John about thirty years younger into my flatmate is it?" Came the bellowed response to whatever Mycroft was saying, before Sherlock slammed his hand down ending the call. I was completely confused. No, that little boy couldn't possibly be John Watson, could it? That would be impossible... Hang on dealing with the Holmes brothers was impossible so maybe it wasn't quite so improbable...

During the time Sherlock had spent shouting at his brother, John had made his way under my desk and was currently sitting there hands over his ears rocking back and forth and silently crying. The moment I noticed this I made eye contact with Sherlock drawing his attention to the boy. Sherlock's gaze immediately softened but panicked as soon as he saw the tears. What do I do? Said the look he shot me. I mimed someone hugging and holding a small child. His eyes showed his panic but he quickly knelt down and clasped the sobbing boy to his chest. John snapped open his eyes and jumped at Sherlock holding him close and mashing their foreheads together. The young boy stared into Sherlock's eyes reassuring himself of something. "Scared me" came the soft explanation.

"I'm very sorry for scaring you John, what did I do to scare you?"

"Shouting at the phone, scary thought you were goin tuh hurt me after, that's what happens normally." I stared at the small boy, who beat him after shouting at the phone? Surely not Sherlock, he seemed to dote on the kid from what I could see.

"Who hurts you" Sherlock enquired softly.

"Father" came the equally soft reply. Sherlock's face showed anger but when he spoke his voice was calm. "John, I will never intentionally hurt you or ever try to hurt you, you have my word on that." The small boy made even smaller by his hunched shoulders nodded and nestled deeper in Sherlock's coat. Sherlock's gaze met mine. "It seems John's childhood had abuse mixed in, I would never have guessed."

"You mean that that child is John Watson" I still did not quite believe it, despite all the overwhelming evidence. "Yes this boy is John Hamish Watson, my brothers labs were quite disastrous." He sighed.

"How long till he gets back to normal?" I wanted to know how permanent this would be.

"Well not as long as a normal childhood so far it is reckoned that he should reach his thirties in about five years meaning he will age at about 6 years per 365 days so every 62 days is a year to him. He currently has the same memories that John had but the ones he acquired later on in life seem to only appear to him when he reaches the age they occurred, though that isn't always the case. He doesn't remember most of Afghanistan, yet." Sherlock explained. I was relived no one wanted a small child to have memories of Afghanistan that turn grown men quite mad. I was and am still amazed that John Watson was not mad, some of the things he has let slip and some of the things I have heard him shouting while under the influence of morphine chilled me to the bone. And I am a Police officer so I see gory things and the worst of human nature frequently; it takes a lot to chill me, yet the least of what this man has seen and done is enough to make me vomit and lie shivering in bed unable to sleep.

I looked around at the sound of snoring, sure enough John was once again asleep in Sherlock's arms. I outlined the case to Sherlock received the usual scathing retorts about my and my departments lack of intellect, though these were said with less venom and quieter than usual due to the small boy lying asleep. I did not miss the small glances sent Johns way and the increase in yawns from Sherlock. Nor did I miss the telltale signs of weariness on his face. I smiled to myself as Sherlock, after telling me who had killed who, promptly fell asleep. I gently laid a spare shock blanket over the two of them and took a photo. As blackmail material for later. What else would it be for? Then I got back on with my work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2-Donovan's POV:**

Eurgh. More paperwork. And Lestrade called the freak in, who still hasn't shown up even though people could be in danger. He's probably just doing another wierd experiment. I shuddered. I still can't forget about that head in the fridge, it was near food and it was a real head. I didn't go the next time there was a drugs bust.

There were still some things I needed to go through with Lestrade so I made my way with all the paperwork over to his office. I entered straight away, me and Greg never bother knocking, we both thought it odd when we did knock since we were in and out of each other's offices so often. I stopped and stared. There was the freak and a small, cute looking blond boy asleep cuddling in a chair together under an orange shock blanket. It is safe to say that this image is one of the most shocking things I have ever seen and that includes murder investigations. I heard a sudden crash and realised I must have dropped the files. Sherlock started but didn't wake up. The little boy however opened his eyes a crack, yawned and then tightened his grip on Sherlock's coat seeking comfort. I was even more surprised, a child seeking comfort from the Freak! Okay, waking up now. OW! Not a dream then.

Lestrade got up from his chair, I jumped I had been so absorbed by the scene in front of me I hadn't noticed him. He walked over to the small boy. "Do you want to eat or drink anything, John?" He asked softly trying not to wake up Sherlock. The small boy, John, widened his strangely familiar blue eyes and nodded clambering down from Sherlock. The boy eventually reached the floor and let go of Sherlock, patting his face as he went. The boy once he reached the floor pulled a phone from Sherlock's pocket and held it in his hand before putting it into his own pocket. "'Strade pease can I have currant juice, 'Shlock won't let me have tea, he says it's got caffeine in." The boy asked.

"Course you can, Donovan can you go get some, we'll go to your office, let's let Sherlock sleep shall we?" John nodded and followed Lestrade out to my office. I was too shocked that Freak even knew that kids shouldn't have caffeine and the fact that the little boy obviously cared about Sherlock to even complain about being told to get juice for a kid.

I came back from the machine with the blackcurrant juice and handed it to John who was sitting swinging his legs on my desk. "Thanks" he muttered shyly.

"You're welcome" I grinned back. John's answering smile was so bright it made me grin more my heart warming to this charming kid. Lestrade started speaking to the boy. "When was the last time Sherlock slept, John?" He asked treating the boy like an adult.

"Umm 'bout..." He counted on his fingers "tree days, Mycoff shouted at him to sleep, but 'shlock said he was stupid. He worried 'bout me cause I had a cough, he said it was bronchitis and shouted at the doctor then made me eat nasty medicine, I poured it down the sink and replaced it with juice when 'Shlock was in shower." I was amazed, Sherlock caring about someone! I felt uneasy at the little boys speech, he just sounded way too smart for a four year old. "Three days, bloody hell, no wonder he passed out" Lestrade exclaimed. I glared at him for swearing. Then John piped up, "Mycoff an' me put pills in his tea tuh make him sleep, he was gettin' grouchy." I was torn between the urge to frown or giggle at the fact that Sherlock had been outwitted by a four year old. Lestrade decided on frowning, though his mouth twitched a bit. "John you shouldn't drug Sherlock" he scolded. John looked him right in the eye. "It's not right usually but 'Shlock need to sleep, it bad for his health if he doesn't, 'Shlock's gonna be annoyed I did it an' he's not gonna talk to Mycoff for a few days but it wa' needed." I was astounded, the boy knew he had done wrong, didn't want to make Sherlock mad but still managed to drug Sherlock's tea and quote the ethics of it to Lestrade.

"Who are you?" I asked John.

"John Hamish Watson" he replied. I stood there unsure how to react.

"So you're related to John?" The resemblance to John was uncanny. The boy frowned confused. Lestrade interrupted hurriedly. "Why don't you go check on Sherlock, John" He asked, clearly wanting to explain something to me with John out of the way. The boy showed a clear understanding of the situation and replied sharply "If you wanted me out of the room you could have just said so 'Strade, I don't like being lied to." And with that he left, lightly slamming the door behind him.

Lestrade sighed. "That is John, Dr. John Watson, apparently an experiment went wrong in one of Mycroft's high tech, secret labs and he was injected with a serum, and now grows about a year every 60 days." I burst out laughing at this obvious practical joke. I stopped as soon as I saw Lestrade looking at me concern over his face. I stopped. "Are you serious?" I queried.

"Of course I'm serious"

"Really!"

"Yes" he shouted.

"Oh my God" I whispered. "How much does he know?"

"Well he remembers an abusive father but apparently until he reaches the age he got the memories he won't remember them until that point." Lestrade frowned. "Mostly, Sherlock said he remembers a few things that happen when John is older." He added.

We stayed in silence. Then both moved to the door when we realised John hadn't come back. By the time we got to my office we found John sitting on Sherlock's lap combing his hair with his hands and murmuring a lullaby under his breath. He fixed us both with such a glare should we make a sound that I feared for our lives. John carried on with his caressing and humming.

After about seven minutes of this Sherlock started to come round. John proceeded to check Sherlock's pulse and look at his pupils. Some of his former medical knowledge coming through. Hold on, Greg said that he shouldn't remember that stuff yet, I hope to God he doesn't remember his army days yet.

I remember a few months ago coming in and seeing John, I couldn't look into his eyes, they were so filled with anguish, anger, pain and fear. I thought he had finally cracked with having to be around the Freak but when I expressed this to Sherlock he had quickly told me with worry in his eyes that John was reliving an awful event that occurred in Afghanistan this time two years ago. I could not imagine anything horrible enough to put such emotion into the normally cheerful yet amazingly brave doctor's face. Sherlock had seemed more normal, actually worried about someone for a change, my heart had gone out to him. Until he insulted me in his usual manner however, then my pity left.

Sherlock eventually woke up and was led out yawning by a small John holding his hand. I took a photo. Just for blackmail reasons of course, not because it was cute. No not at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3-Sherlock's POV:**

Where was he? My mind panicked as I mentally ran through every place a child John's size could hide in a department store. No use there was so many places he could be. I heard giggling, there that way. I made my way towards the sound, then stopped. The sound was coming from within a clothes stand. I pushed the hangers out of the way and came face to face with the small culprit of my anxiety. I don't know how ordinary people do it, with more than one kid most of the time! I had a hard enough time and I was cleverer than most people and I only had to look after one incredibly smart kid instead of a few mindless brats. But it seemed the ordinary average human was better at looking after a child than me. John launched himself into my arms; I caught him by reflex settling his warm body against mine more comfortably. "Love you 'Shlock" he whispered. An unexpected warmth flooded my chest at those words. "I love you too John." I murmured back.

As we wondered around the toy store, John seemed to like everything he saw while I was trying to find him something vaguely educational and not downright crazy like that huge pink elephant. I really can't see why John would like something so unnecessary and so...pink. He eventually decided on a magnifying glass and a miniature detective set. I made a mental note to introduce John to Harry, so I could find out what he liked when he was younger and he had been sleep talking her name.

As we left we heard a startled "Sherlock!" I looked behind, there was Molly. Oh no I groaned inwardly. I glanced over; new top, tag still on, out to impress someone; Shoe laces changed and colour coordinated with her hair band and lipstick again to impress someone, hmm she really likes this person. Might stop her mooning over me. Traces of coffee on her breath, Molly only drinks coffee when she works late so at Bart's until 11 then. Eyes flicking to the clock nervous wants her date to appear and doesn't want to be late suggesting he hasn't appeared for a past date but she still wants to get there on time so he had a good excuse. I shook myself away from the deductions and returned her smile.

"Hello" John stated quite loudly upwards obviously wondering who she was.

"Hello" she cooed back.

"'m John Hamish Watson, what's your name" John asked confidently, flashing a disarming smile. That smile worked wonders on Mycroft. John could get him to do anything especially if he said 'mycoff' innocently enough. Molly's face was shocked as she took in that news. "Umm, m m my names Molly" she eventually stammered out, still obviously confused as to how this small child with the same name as my friend and flatmate ended up with me. John noticing her hesitation stepped in. "One of Mycoff's 'speriments went wrong so now I four. In five years time I'll be thirty" he announced proudly. "And 'Strade likes you lots, you should marry him." Me and Molly looked at him in surprise. "H how did you know I was dating him" Molly asked with a quiver to her voice. Hang on thats who she was trying to impress, how did John figure that out before me? "He's over there" John said pointing. "And when he first saw you he stopped looking, shocked, but he liked what he saw, he turned red then began to flatten his hair and look at his 'flection in the glass. And then he started glaring at Sherlock like he was jealous. It looks the same as when mum looked at dad..." John trailed off upset. Both of us looked on in amazement. Then Molly squeaked and threw herself into Lestrade's arms, he had walked up to us as John had been rattling off his deductions. From his shocked face I could see he had heard the end of the conversation.

I looked back to John, he was pale, shaking and looked as though he was going to be sick. I crouched down and said "John, your father isn't here at the moment and no one is going to harm you." I stood up. He visibly relaxed and came closer hugging my leg then tugged at my coat. "Wanna go home now." He breathed, exhaustion colouring his tone.

"Come on then" I replied and turned back to Molly and Lestrade, who were now holding hands. "Hello Molly, Lestrade, me and John have to go now, have fun." I winced did I really say 'have fun' urgh. Way too sugary. "You look nice together can you come to Baker Street later pease?"

"John we have talked about this you cannot invite people home unless you have asked my permission first." I said sternly.

"But 'Shlock" he whined.

"No buts John." I firmly stated no way was I letting him invite people home. His chin wobbled and he widened his eyes "pease?" I could not resist him when he did this.

"Fine" I muttered. "Would you like to come to see John later at Baker Street together" I asked Molly and Lestrade. They were both grinning at me. I bristled. Lestrade spoke before I could, heading off the scathing comment I was about to unleash. "Of course we would love to, see you then bye." He said dragging Molly away with him.

John leaned against me sunny smile back. I was sure I had just been manipulated by a four year old. John yawned. "Home" I said and smiled back.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4-Skull's POV**

Sherlock came back carrying John. Obviously he had fallen asleep in the cab on the way back. Sherlock got him settled on the couch then started on one of his experiments. About an hour and a half later a strangled yelp caught my attention. John had found one of his water pistols and had shown he already had formidable aim by getting Sherlock in the face from across the room. Sherlock stood up calmly, picked John up and put him down in the corner and said "You have to stay there for half an hour now no getting up, you know you are not supposed to fire your water pistols inside." Johns lip trembled the one thing he absolutely hated was the naughty corner. And he knew if he got up five minutes would be added to the time. So he stayed in the corner tears running down his face waiting for the half an hour to be up.

After about 10 minutes the doorbell went. Sherlock sighed and put away his experiment then answered the door. He came up with Molly and Greg. When they caught sight of John, sitting in the corner, crying and looking pitiful, Greg looked accusingly at Sherlock while Molly went to comfort John. Sherlock gave Greg an irritated stare before flouncing onto the sofa. "He is in the naughty corner" Sherlock explained.

"What did he do?" Greg asked.

"While I was in the middle of an experiment John got his water pistol and fired it at me when he knows water pistols are not supposed to be used inside." Sherlock elaborated.

"Only did it cause you didn't notice when I shouted" John called from Molly's arms glaring and still sobbing quietly.

"Oh" Sherlock said surprised.

"I was hungry" John complained, still glaring at Sherlock, tears adding to his pitiful state. "I hungry." John shouted. Sherlock immediately looked panicked knowing John would begin screaming in about five minutes unless he was fed and knowing there was no food in the kitchen, edible food anyway. Greg began to laugh which only annoyed John further. "HUNGRY" he bellowed and burst into noisy sobs. "Dam. Mrs Hudson's on holiday, Dam. Molly order a takeaway fast!" He ordered before grabbing his lock picking set and running downstairs.

Greg left with the sobbing boy walked closer ignoring the baleful glare he got in return. He decided to distract the child. "I bet you can't guess what I brought for you today" he said. John frowned stopping crying. "Teddy" he guessed hopefully.

"No not a teddy" Greg chuckled. He held up a bag so John could see the shape of a box like object. Johns face cleared. "A book!" he cried out clearly delighted, at the same time the doorbell went.

"I've just got to answer that" Greg muttered stepping downstairs hoping it was the takeaway as John started screaming again.

Mycroft stood at the door holding large containers of takeaway Chinese. He grinned, then winced at the sound John was making as he made his way upstairs. "Came just in time, I presume." He said smugly. The moment he walked in John started to throw things having a major tantrum. "Sherlock leave Mrs Hudson's larder alone I brought food." He yelled. The moment food was mentioned John calmed down and came closer, crying silently. He reached out and Mycroft gave him the smallest container that was filled with egg fried rice. John began to stuff handfuls into his mouth as Sherlock hurried up. Sherlock's face cracked with relief at seeing John eating. "Seems like I got here in just in time this time Sherlock, he hasn't started throwing knives yet." Seeing Greg and Molly's confused stares Mycroft elaborated. "Last time Sherlock neglected to feed John, John resorted to throwing knives and managed to nearly cut himself and Sherlock several times. They all looked to the unassuming boy sitting quietly on the floor still stuffing his face with rice getting most of it on the floor.

Sherlock groaned. "I have to clean that up later" he mumbled.

"Well its better than broken glass. He also smashed glasses last time." Said Mycroft snidely.

"Shuddit Mycoff" John said succinctly. Everyone again looked surprised at John. "What?" he asked innocently. "Mycoff was upsetting 'Shlock."

"When did you last feed him then Sherlock." Greg asked curious as to how long it would take for John to start screaming at the lack of food. "four hours and 37 minutes ago" John replied.

"Only four and a half hours ago?" Molly said in surprise.

"Technically that was a muffin that he pulled apart and left as a trail for the birds" Mycroft interjected. "His last proper meal was 6 hours and 45 minutes ago." Sherlock scowled.

"Stop watching me and John" he growled.

"I am merely concerned about your safety, and John's of course." Molly and Lestrade just looked at each other then sat either side of John who had retreated to the sofa discarding the half empty box of rice.

45 minutes later, all of them well fed and John with his head on Molly's lap and his feet on Greg's, there fell a comfortable silence. Sherlock was eyeing Molly, John and Greg jealously. John was his. Was what the glares he sent out meant. Mycroft was looking from Sherlock to John contentedly.

John suddenly stiffened. "'Shlock" he whined. Then he started thrashing about. Sherlock instantly stood up and grabbed John to him murmuring how it was all fine and not to worry the nasty man wasn't there. John eventually opened his eyes and clung to Sherlock. Sherlock kissed his head and sat back in his seat with John. Sherlock started humming a soothing melody and rocked John in time to it. The boy eventually fell back to sleep hands clutching Sherlock's shirt. Everyone was looking at Sherlock. The depth of emotion and love in his face was amazing from the self proclaimed sociopath. Mycroft looked unnerved but happy. Molly and Greg shared a glance at how good this could be for Sherlock. Sherlock just stared at John. By the time he looked up they had all left for the night and noticing the time Sherlock carried John to his room hesitating before stepping in. "Just for tonight" he warned, "tomorrow you can sleep in your own bed." By the time they were asleep again both sported matching smiles of joy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5-Randon Observer's POV:**

A small boy and a tall thin man tumbled out of 221B Baker Street. The man was attempting to do up the zip of the young boys coat while the boy, giggling, tried his hardest to escape. With a muffled curse the man held the boy upside down and zipped up the coat while the boy hung limply. When the man placed the boy down gently, his face suffused with tenderness, the boy again giggling tried to run away. A man strolled close to them and greeted them with a pedantic "Hello, Sherlock" he said nodding his head towards the tall man. "John" he said inclining his head again to the small boy. Sherlock mumbled an indistinct hello but the boy face shinning with glee exuberantly shouted his greetings to the tall suit clad figure. "Hi Mycoff!" Mycoff as the man was called took hold of the hand stretched out to meet his and held on to it carefully as if John might break if Mycoff held on too tight. "I'm not sure about this Mycroft." Hissed Sherlock.

"Don't worry what could possibly go wrong?" Mycroft hurried on clearly not wanting an answer to that question. "You need to inform Harry about something, well you need information about John from when he was a kid, go John will be fine, If I can run a country I can look after one small boy for one day." Sherlock sighed, ruffled John's hair and nodded reluctantly. He swooped down to briefly clasp John to his chest, kissed his head murmured a goodbye then strode hurriedly away. John tried to run after him but Mycroft held on to his hand. The boys face fell but he followed the man into a black car that had in the last few seconds pulled up to the pavement near them.

Sherlock stood nervously tapping on the door, after a few moments he was answered by a small, pretty, blond haired woman looking tired but otherwise healthy. "Er, hello, Harry I presume?" Sherlock said sticking out his hand, she looked at him cautiously but accepted the hand. "Er, yeh, er, who are you?" she asked uncomfortably.

"Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes." He said shaking her hand firmly.

"Oh, John's friend and flatmate."

"Yes er, yes, may I come in?" He politely enquired.

"Of course of course" she said looking thoroughly confused.

About five minutes later they were sat opposite each other in Harry's lounge sipping tea. "Oh God John's okay isn't he?" she questioned looking concerned and almost frantic. There was a miniscule pause before Sherlock answered. "Yes, John is fine, at the moment he is in perfect health."

"That means that something is still wrong." Harry shrewdly guessed.

"Yes you are correct but I can't say anymore at the moment, just that he is okay and happy." She frowned taking this in.

"Okay well what do you need to know then?" She questioned. Sherlock just watched her perplexed. She noticed his expression. "Well you came here not to tell me as you didn't straight away so I assume there is something about him that you want or need to know and I hate bullshit so get on with it." She explained. Sherlock shook himself then nodded. "Yes, you are quite right, um, what was John like as a child? What did he like/dislike and how did your mother and father treat him?" There was a long silence as Harry took in these questions and formed her response. "Ah, you want to know about the abuse." She said after a long pause. There was more silence. "Well you know I have, had, a problem with drinking." She trailed off. "Unfortunately our father was a drunk too. When he came back reeking of whiskey and some other woman's perfume mum would look at him, fix her hair looking at her reflection, then look at him lovingly but glaring at the same time. Jealous. In the morning dad would wake up feel guilty and because of this if he saw John he would go berserk at John for no reason. I think it was because John reminded him of himself before the alcohol..." She trailed off. Sherlock sat in appalled silence. "So that's how John understood about Lestrade and Molly..." He eventually muttered.

"I think the worst was after John's...accident...he didn't think John was strong, man enough...ironically this and the fact it meant John could escape led John to joining the army." Harry continued. Sherlock stilled at the pause around the word 'accident' as if he knew something was being kept from him. "Accident?" He questioned. Harry looked back her face schooled blank. "Yes, accident." She said as if saying: everyone has accidents, what of it? "He broke his leg badly in two places when he was younger" she said reluctantly.

"Why did he never tell me" Sherlock said bitterly, this was why John always paled at the abuse cases Sherlock took. And why he was always there to comfort the child after. His reaction always seemed too exaggerated considering the horrible things he regularly saw, not that it wasn't upsetting. Sherlock had learned to block himself off from emotion when dealing with a case, it was easy most of the time, police, doctors and soldiers all did it. John didn't. He never shut himself off from the emotional pain of caring compassion. It would make most people mad. John was one of the strongest people I have ever known. Harry again looked pityingly at him. "He doesn't spread his emotional baggage, he doesn't like being pitied, and besides did you ever ask him" she finished shrewdly. Sherlock looked disgruntled and vaguely nauseous.

"Don't worry, he doesn't even speak to me." She finished, sighing. After a while he stood up and Harry showed him to the door. "Thanks you've helped a lot." He mumbled before almost running away. He walked aimlessly his feet taking him wherever they wanted while he ran the conversation through his mind. After a while he realised he was standing outside Scotland Yard. He entered an office with the name Gregory Lestrade on the front.

The moment he entered, the man behind the desk, Lestrade, jumped up, stared at the distraught features on Sherlock's face then hurriedly pushed the younger man into his abandoned chair. "What is it? Is something wrong? Is John ok?" He asked anxiously. At the last question Sherlock choked.

"I've just been to see Harry." He explained. "Has John ever talked to you about an 'accident' or his childhood or his father" Sherlock questioned Greg. Greg looked confused, then horrified as the words sank in. "You mean..." He started but Sherlock interrupted.

"His father got drunk then beat him and John had a pretty serious accident judging from Harry's expression, Harry didn't go into details about that, I think that something happened, something she's not saying, I'll ask her another time." Greg and Sherlock stayed in silence, Greg taking in the convoluted sentence. After about 3 minutes Greg took a deep breath and said "I'll take you home then." He pulled Sherlock up by his elbow and pushed him out and into his car. They reached Baker Street in silence. Greg helped Sherlock up and had just put a cup of tea in front of him when he heard a key in the lock and childish chattering followed by heavy steps coming up.

Through the door burst John with chocolate smears down his face, clutching a brand new teddy and tied to one of those child leads you sometimes see parents with. Holding on to the other end was a slightly crumpled, absolutely exhausted looking Mycroft. The moment he shut the door he let John off the leash and John launched himself at Sherlock. Sherlock held him closer than usual a strange mixture of relief, pain and happiness crossing his face. John wiped his mouth on Sherlock's shirt before jumping down and running up and down holding the arm of his teddy. Mycroft sank down in the sofa and gulped down Sherlock's tea, a small quirk of his mouth showing his complete exhaustion and how welcome the tea was.

"What did you give to him?" Sherlock asked, eyeing the bouncing boy, amusement turning the corners of his mouth. "He said he normally had a cup of tea with four sugars in with his lunch, and chocolate spread sandwiches and as a treat I brought him a doughnut. By the time I paid for it from the cafe he had nicked my wallet and brought himself a bag of sweets from the shop next door and was halfway through them when I caught him. I told him off for stealing my wallet and then brought this leash thing." He said holding it up. "Then we went to the park and he played, he can run very fast can't he? Then he said he was hungry, he said he wanted a coke and a huge slice of cake. He said you always brought him cake when you went to the park. He smeared most of the cake round his mouth as you can see then refused to let me clean it off him. As we walked to the car he saw a teddy that he said he wanted. He started crying so I brought it for him. I got to the car and asked hmmm, Janet today, what I had done wrong she explained that he had too much sugar and caffeine, perhaps I shouldn't have brought him cake"

Two bellows of laughter made Mycroft look up in amazement to see the normally serious Sherlock and Lestrade clutching their sides and giggling, giggling at Mycroft!

"Sorry my brother but you've just been played by a four year old, imagine if all the countries knew how to defeat Mycroft Holmes all they had to do was to get him to look after a kid." Sherlock eventually gasped out before collapsing again, chuckling. "I never give him tea or coke, too much caffeine and both have too much sugar if you put four spoonfuls into his tea. Sweets as well as a doughnut and a slice of cake, again way too much sugar; he has you twisted round his finger, he pretends to cry when he wants something, don't worry I've only just figured out that trick of his" Sherlock explained as Mycroft's face became more and more mortified. He eyed John with respect and no small amount of trepidation.

Greg finally calmed down. "That boy is way too smart for his own good." he eventually muttered. "Hmmm. I might have to agree with you there." Sherlock replied. "Mycroft you do know I have to put John to bed sometime in the next hour." Sherlock groaned. Then he looked at John. "John come here" he said in a mock stern voice. John's face fell, expecting to be told off, as he wondered over. "Now John you do know that lying is naughty and you shouldn't trick Mycroft and I should put you in the naughty corner for it." John's face instantly brightened.

"But you not gonna put me in naughty corner" he stated confidently.

"How do you know I won't?"

"Cause you don't usually mind when I naughty to Mycoff and you founded it funny and you said I should, not I will." Came the logic from a four year old boy. Sherlock grinned.

"Your right, John, but don't do it again."

"I won't" John said contritely. Sherlock glanced down.

"John, say that without crossing your fingers or your toes." Greg and Mycroft looked down, sure enough John was standing there with his fingers and two toes crossed.

John looked down his expression petulant at being thwarted. Then he coughed. "Feel sick" he moaned. Sherlock looked unsympathetic. "Well you did eat tonnes of junk food, it's no wonder you're feeling ill" John started crying.

"No" he wailed. "Feel really sick." Suddenly he stopped and vomited all over the floor. John stared for a moment shocked then started to scream. Sherlock eyed him for a moment then turned to Mycroft. "You're paying for someone to come and clean that up." Mycroft grimaced and nodded picking up his phone. John started swaying and stoped screaming looking pale and shivering. " 'Shlock pease. Make it stop." John moaned then opened his arms looking beseechingly at Sherlock. Sherlock sighed and bent down scooping up the young child. John immediately quietened and stopped whimpering. After a few minutes he spoke again. "I'm sorry 'Shlock" he said repentantly. Sherlock sighed again "don't worry John, come on let's get cleaned up, bath time." He declared. They both walked up wearing matched expressions for the dreaded bath. Sherlock did not appreciate getting completely soaked while John remained infuriatingly dry- Sherlock wasn't the one supposed to be having a bath! John was a kid so abhorred any attempt at cleanliness.

By the time they came down, hair mussed with the ends still wet, the carpet was clean, Mycroft had fallen asleep and Greg was making tea. Sherlock looked at John. "We will let Mycroft sleep here tonight, but John when he wakes up I want you to apologise for lying to Mycroft and not listening to him." John nodded. Sherlock sat down accepted the cup of tea from Greg and settled John down in his lap. John held on to a handful of Sherlock's hair "your hair 'Shlock, feels soft." John declared before he fell asleep head resting on Sherlock's collar bone. Greg covered them with a quilt, then did the same with Mycroft. Half an hour later Greg shut the door on all of them asleep and left the flat a smile on his face.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6-Anthea's POV:**

I walked up the stairs of 221B baker Street to find my boss. I stepped in. My eyes swept the room. There were toys everywhere. You could barely see the carpet. I could spyed a pair of legs, feet crossed in the air and I followed them down to see a small boy lying on his stomach tongue poking out in concentration, he was colouring something. I looked to the chair and stifled a giggle. Mycroft Holmes was asleep mouth wide open and there was a wobbly drawn moustache drawn with the same coloured pen as the one the boy currently held. On Mycroft's forehead written was the word sorry. When Mycroft next looked in the mirror he would have a shock! I had to be there to witness it. The carpet was newly cleaned. Mycroft had called me to arrange the cleaner.

I looked to the other chair. Mycroft's brother Sherlock was also asleep but there was no pen adorning his face. I looked closer. And a giggle escaped. Sherlock's shirt had been unbuttoned and on his chest was drawn a smiley face. I looked at the small boy to find he was also staring at me. "Did you do this" I asked waving at the two men. The boy scratched his nose with the end of his pen and slowly put it down. "Depends" he said. I stared at him my eyebrows rising.

"On what?" I queried.

"Whether you're going to tell me off or not" came the reply, the implied 'well duh' showing. I laughed, this boy was delightful! The boys face brightened as he realised that I was not going to tell him off and a sunny smile shined through.

"Hi my names John." He said sticking out his hand. I took it and smiled saying

"And mine's Anthea"

"No it's not" he replied. I stared at him in shock, how had a four year old boy known I was not telling the truth? "You're one of Mycoff's lackeys" he explained. How he thought that was explaining I don't know. Maybe he remembered me. "I'm hungry, can you make breakfast" the child, John requested rubbing his hair. I looked at the clock 7:30am precisely. I wondered how long he had been up. "Okay," I answered. "What do you usually have?" His eyes gleamed mischievously.

"I usually have doughnuts" he deadpanned. I grinned no way was he pulling that trick on me, I used to play it unwary adults. "Sorry not today kiddo" I replied. He frowned knowing I had not been taken in. "Cheerios" he said, disgruntled.

He walked to the kitchen. "Don't use any of the stuff with blue pen on, unless you wanna get poisen." The child grinned. Okay he didn't have a normal childhood then. He got out a bowl and a spoon and nodded to where the cereal was I took the hint and pulled it out and poured him some. I then went to the fridge, widened my eyes at the human fingers I could see but otherwise didn't comment. I checked the sell by date on the milk though, just in case. Five minutes later I was sitting at the table drinking coffee and watching John making a boundary of cheerios for a trail of milk to go through on the kitchen table. I thought it less destructive than drawing on people. Suddenly John leaned forward and snagged my coffee. "Hey!" I complained. He smelt it and took a large gulp promptly spitting it back out all over the table ruining his art. "Urrgh" he complained.

"Serves you right" I muttered. He glared at me. No way was I clearing it up. I heard movement from the lounge. Earlier John had begged me to drag mirrors from the bathroom and place one facing Mycroft and one facing Sherlock so we could watch their reactions to their 'surprise'. John really was a little devil.

We both scrambled to get to the lounge to watch. The first to stir was Sherlock. He sat up stared at what was written, his face split with annoyance and amusement. He chuckled.

About 10 minutes later Mycroft began to stir. Sherlock had left to get rid of the message, he hadn't returned yet. I looked at the pen, permanent marker. I stifled giggles at the thought of Mycroft going round to all his important meetings with a penned moustache and the word sorry on his head. John shushed me. I watched Mycroft wake up and stare at his face. He groaned. John came over to him and clambered on his lap. I noticed a camera next to where John had been drawing. The cheeky sod! I said to myself. I was admiring his brains and his guts! He had blackmail material on Mycroft Holmes!

I looked at the drawing. It was of the two men with John in the middle holding their hands. The word 'friends' was scrawled along the top. Mycroft was studiously ignoring John. John frowned at him for a second then reached down and hugged him whispering sorry. I watched Mycroft Holmes, The Ice Man, melt. His face softened and he hugged John back. John stayed still for a few seconds then gave Mycroft a sloppy kiss on the cheek and scooted down. Mycroft touched his cheek. I noticed Sherlock standing in the corner watching.

John ran over to Sherlock and took his hand, he yawned. "What time did you get up John?" Sherlock enquired softly. John looked at Sherlock then at the clock. "twee" he said rubbing his eye. Sherlock sighed again, picked up John and placed him on the sofa and wrapped him in one of the quilts. John fell silent and a moment later soft snores filled the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: I am truly sorry for the horrendously long wait. I wrote most of this story on my old laptop, which I dropped then, spilt a huge mug of tea all over and of course I didn't use a memory stick. I make it a point that if I write a multi chapter fanfiction that it has to be completed before I post it, however since this is no longer the case and my files are unobtainable I may not complete this fic as I really can't see myself rewriting it and to be honest I don't particularly like how not in character all the characters are, they all seem the same to me, added to the fact I wrote this fic when I was twelve... well I don't see it being completed, sorry, I really hate leaving anything unfinished. **

**Chapter 7-Random Observers POV:**

John bounded into the kitchen humming happily. He reached out for his bowl then gasped a sudden pain in his stomach sending him crashing to the floor. The small boy began to cry, sobbing his fear and confusion into the floor. As the pain grew more intense the boy started to scream. 5 minutes later Sherlock ran upstairs into his flat "John" he called out "I've got you a birthday breakfast!" He had gone out about 10 minutes ago to finish preparing a surprise and to pick up a doughnut and some hot chocolate for the child's breakfast. "John?" he called out again. He walked into the kitchen and froze.

In the middle of the kitchen lying on the floor pale and still lay John, tear tracks still evident on his cheeks. He called Mycroft. "Mycroft, it's John, he's on the floor..." Sherlock trailed off choking on sobs. "I'll be right there, I've called an ambulance" came the reply before the phone went dead. Sherlock crumpled on to the floor hugging his knees. He watched John.

Mycroft burst in four minutes later out of breath and just stared then he laughed in relief. Sherlock sat on the floor crying, stared at him in shock. "Sherlock look he's breathing" Sherlock looked closer and saw the miniscule movement of John's chest rising and falling. Sherlock lunged forward and picked up the small child cradling him to his chest. John came to due to all the movement. "'Shlock" he murmured.

"Sh it's all right" Sherlock assured the boy. The boy shook his head.

"No 'Shlock, hurts" he gasped out before screaming in agony again. The boy began whimpering, clutching at Sherlock's coat. Sherlock's expression was horrified as he tried to sooth the pain wracked child. "Don't worry an ambulance is coming" said Mycroft looking worried and out of his depth.

John struggled out of Sherlock's arms to throw up copiously on the floor. When he finished he curled up in a ball shaking. Suddenly he stiffened and screamed again. "'Shlock, make it stop" he begged. Sherlock's expression was one of utter helplessness. "Where does it hurt John?" Mycroft asked quietly. John pointed to the bottom of his stomach. "There" he whimpered. The sound of sirens reached their ears and the two Holmes' breathed equal sighs of relief. The medical personal rushed up glanced at the scene picked up the small child and forced the two men into the ambulance with them. They were pressed with sweet tea and orange blankets. "I'm not in shock" declared Sherlock but without much emotion.

"So that's why they gave us tea and blankets" Mycroft mused. Sherlock looked over to where John was strapped to a gurney. One of the ambulance personnel saw his worried stare.

"We think it's appendicitis." She told them smiling in a reassuring manner. Sherlock sighed in relief and closed his eyes ignoring her. Mycroft smiled his thanks and slumped slightly. He was mildly unnerved that all it took to destroy his brother was any harm done to the small boy in his charge. It also unnerved him that John had managed to take away Mycroft's legendary cool.

By the time they got to the special private hospital Mycroft had paid for, Sherlock looked calmer though in his eyes was a sort of wildness that promised a violent death if anyone furthered John's suffering. Anthea came in, for once not on her blackberry, looking concerned "here" she said handing them each a coffee. She also held out a colouring book, pencils and a teddy to Sherlock. "For when he wakes up" Anthea explained. Sherlock nodded mutely. He then looked to Mycroft,

"I only left for 10 minutes how could something like this happen in such a short time?" Mycroft looked at him shrewdly.

"It wasn't your fault, Sherlock, everyone gets ill." Sherlock glared at him then sighed. "I know" he whispered.

"But I should have been able to help, to do something, John always helped me." He finished on a note of distress. Mycroft just looked at him.

**0X0X0**

5 hours later...

Sherlock was staring at John's small figure in the hospital bed, waiting. The doctors had said he should be waking up from the general anaesthetic soon. John stirred. Sherlock leaned forward. John opened his eyes, looked around fear on his face at the unknown surroundings before he found Sherlock. His face relaxed in relief and he grinned his usual sunny smile. The effect this had on Sherlock was amazing. Gone was the morose man sitting slumped, now he was smiling cracking jokes and helping John with his colouring books.

John lifted up his hospital gown and poked the small scar on his abdomen "Stop it, John." Sherlock admonished. John pouted and poked it again. "I mean it John" he said more sternly. John grinned mischievously and poked it again. "Or what" the small boy cheekily asked. Sherlock reached over and with one hand trapped both of John's. "I'll do this" Sherlock answered not looking up from his book. John sighed and flopped back, wrists still held in Sherlock's hand. "Bored" John moaned. When this produced no effect he said it again. When Sherlock still did nothing he climbed up, stood directly in front of Sherlock and shouted in his face "I'm bored!" Sherlock looked up and said calmly "I know." John opened his mouth and Sherlock stuffed a doughnut into it and released his wrists. John choked slightly and quietly ate the doughnut. When he was done he wiped his mouth on Sherlock's shirt. Sherlock used to it, just rolled his eyes pulling his shirt out of John's grasp. John grinned. "Still bored." He muttered.

After a further 10 minutes, that John spent looking round the room sighing, attempting to steal Sherlock's book and generally making a pest of himself, Sherlock sighed and said "fine you win." John grinned. "What do you want to do then?" Sherlock asked him tucking away the book.

"Spying" replied John. When Sherlock just looked confused he elaborated. "Sneak out of here and out of ho'pital." Sherlock stared.

"No" he stated firmly.

"Pease" John begged.

"No"

"C'm on"

"No"

"Pease 'Shlock"

"NO"

"Pretty pease"

"I said no"

"Please Sherlock, please"

...


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8-Donovan's POV:**

I smiled as I saw Sherlock coming in with John. You never saw Sherlock without him anymore, it was sweet, if you could call a six foot sociopath sweet. Sherlock was doing a good job of looking after him though even keeping John away from the gory things and leaving him with us or his freaky brother or that woman with the blackberry on the frequent occasions he chased after criminals. He was doing less of that recently, however. I walked over behind them as they headed to Lestrade's office. It seemed they were having a debate. I listened in, it was always fun to hear Sherlock being out witted by a four year old. "'Shlock don't worry, I'll tell you if my tummy hurts again and even you found it fun when we snuck past the h'pital staff, you was giggling, and you said it was way too easy all I had to do was walk past as though I had every right to be leaving."

"Yes but that doesn't mean I don't regret taking you out of hospital early, if your stitches split I'll never hear the end of it from Mycroft." I stopped stunned. So John had gone to hospital and gotten stitches for some reason then they had left early against medical advice. I carried on walking feeling annoyed at Sherlock's lack of responsibility.

We walked into Lestrade's office, Greg jumping up as soon as he noticed us and he placed John in his chair and looked at him worriedly. "Sherlock, are you sure he should be out of hospital? He has just had a pretty major operation." Sherlock frowned at him.

"How did you, oh Mycroft. No I'm not sure but John can be pretty persuasive when he wants to be." He said frowning at John. Something clicked. "Hang on, operation! What operation?" I asked. Greg sighed and said "He had his appendix out this morning. Sherlock came back home and found him passed out on the floor, he called Mycroft and Mycroft called an ambulance. They spent about five and a half hours at hospital before sneaking out." He explained. "Mycroft rang me and explained after he ascertained that they were headed here." He finished. John made an annoyed huff.

"You know I can hear, I am sitting right in front of you and I would appreciate you talking to my face instead of about me in front of me!" he finished the last nearly shouting his face red. Sherlock eyed him. "You haven't eaten today have you?" He asked calmly and walked out of the room. I looked to John. "I remember when I had my appendix out, it hurt like hell." I said "can I see your scar?" I asked trying to appease him. Obviously I had done the right thing as he grinned and flashed around the neatly stitched up cut.

Before I could wonder where Sherlock had run off to he came back in, arms full of sandwiches, crisps, fruit, biscuits and juice. I looked at the amount in his arms. It looked like he had enough for four people. John immediately picked this up. "'Shlock you brought enough for everyone" he said grinning. The tips of Sherlock's ears burned red. I grinned he was embarrassed. "Well it is about two o'clock and from the looks of it you lot haven't eaten and John would share whatever he got and he needs to eat" explained Sherlock.

"Picnic!" John exclaimed ignoring Sherlock and dragging the shock blanket from the corner and laying it neatly on the floor then tugging Sherlock's arms until he dropped the food on top. The small boy frowned at all of us until we sat down and helped ourselves to the food. When asked his sandwich preference the boy shrugged and Sherlock shook his head and John only took one once everyone else had taken theirs not caring about the flavour. "In Afghanistan he got used to taking whatever sandwiches they had so he doesn't have a preference apparently; well that's what he said to me when I asked." Sherlock explained. "And you don't believe him" I stated I hadn't missed the apparently. Sherlock looked at me. "No. I don't think he was given a choice as a kid and just learned to live with eating what he was given and I think this was accentuated in Afghanistan." Sherlock explained.

I looked over at the small boy who was demolishing his sandwich I thought he hadn't listened to the conversation until he spoke. "Harry made sandwiches with stuff was in the fridge, I didn't like the mixture of cheese and chocolate spread. Mum was too busy and dad was either passed out or drunk so we sorted ourselves out." John explained without a trace of emotion in is voice. We sat in appalled silence, not knowing what to say. John continued to eat as though he had said nothing but I saw him rubbing his side as if he was in pain. "Is your side ok?" I questioned John. John visibly flinched and put his arm down. "Can I see" I asked worriedly. He nodded and lifted up his shirt. I flinched and swore at what I saw. There was what looked like map lines, there were so many of them, scars, most looked as if they were done with a belt some with a knife all looked at least 20 years old. I realised that when John Watson had been turned into a boy again his scars had come along with him. I shuddered. Greg looked sick, Sherlock looked mutinous. John just looked tired. "No questions today and I'll tell you about the leg as well" he bargained. We all nodded. His statement said yes he would answer our questions but then that would be the end of it and we could not ask today. "What about your leg?" I questioned. Sherlock looked at me. "It's not really a psychosomatic limp according to Harry." He explained.

I opened the biscuits and offered them to John. He took one but was more interested in making art with the rubbish. We finished our meal in silence. I looked over to what John had made with the rubbish. He had arranged the rubbish into a smiley face. Greg got up to find the files he had ready to give to Sherlock. Sherlock looked at them briefly said dull then explained who did it. John looked at him and asked "How?" Sherlock explained his reasoning and John looked slightly gobsmacked then said "amazing." In a slightly awed tone. Sherlock looked pleased but embarrassed. Hmm I wondered. Had Sherlock always showed this much emotion and I could now translate it? Maybe having John understand some of it and explain it helped us to understand too. I smirked John was a Sherlock translator.

I wondered if they knew any languages... "Sherlock, John, Greg do either of you three know any languages?" I asked. They all looked at me as if I was mental. Well I suppose it was a pretty random question. Greg replied first snorting "I can speak fluent French and a bit of German, half my family are French." I nodded surprised. John laughed delighted "I didn't know that! I speak fluent Pashto and am nearly fluent in four other languages spoken in Afghanistan and I can speak Welsh. You?" I laughed.

"Nope only know a couple of words here and there, Sherlock?" I enquired. I was still slightly awed that John could speak about six languages seven including English. "Umm, 17 different languages." Sherlock muttered. I mouthed at him

"17, God" I said.

"It was for a case" he explained. John yawned. I suddenly realised that though he spoke most of the time like an adult and had acted like one today, John was essentially just a four year old and he had had a pretty stressful day. Sherlock looked like the same realisation had occurred to him. He plucked John over and placed him on his lap, John already half asleep. John curled up clutching Sherlock's coat almost hidden from view.

Anderson walked in and stared at our little tea party before shaking his head and glowering at Sherlock. "Hello Freak" he snarled. Before Greg, Sherlock or I could admonish him, my opinion had changed recently, a small voice spoke out "Stop bein' nasty to 'Shlock" called John peeping out from Sherlock's coat and glaring. Anderson mouthed in shock. I couldn't blame him, seeing Sherlock with a kid had been a shock to me too. John stepped away from Sherlock and took Sherlock's hand in his own. "Can we go home pease, 'Shlock" he asked. Anderson took a step back in amazement as he took in the fact that Sherlock and the small boy lived together and that the small boy cared for Sherlock. They left. Greg called "Anderson, come in here." As Anderson came in I chucked him a juice box and said "sit down this will be a weird conversation."


	9. Chapter 9

**This is as far as I got up to and I really don't like what I have written. Maybe oneday I might rewrite the fic but for now this is abandoned. I am really sorry.**

**Chapter 9-Lestrade's POV:**

I watched in amusement as a small blond haired menace ran into my office and hid behind the door mouthing shush at me. I grinned. Through the glass I saw Sherlock enter the main area looking harassed and carrying, I stifled a giggle, a toy bear and a plastic bag. He came into my office; of course he knew John was here. The moment he came in John launched himself at him. I saw momentary surprise on Sherlock's face before he toppled over bear, bag, kid and all into crumpled heap on the floor with a muffled "ompf". The fear on the little boys face as he got off Sherlock's chest was heartrending, he walked contritely to where Sherlock was still lying making no attempt to get up. I started to get worried, surely he should be moving by now? As John got to his head Sherlock reached out and grabbed him tossing him into the air. "I've got you now!" He yelled. John started hiccupping and as he was set down I was startled to see tears running down his face. "Scared me" John muttered scrubbing his face with the bear which was being clutched to his chest. "Didn't want you to fall 'gain." I paled. John was talking about the jump from Barts roof, Sherlock looked anguished. I looked around trying to think of something to say to make them forget this conversation. I looked at the carrier bag and the amount of toys in it then noticed the bundle of coats, shoes and blankets in the other bag, understanding dawned.

"How long will you be gone?" I asked Sherlock. He looked surprised then guilt crossed his face. He shuffled. "I should be back tomorrow. But Mycroft will have Anthea pick him up at six." I looked at the time; it was ten in the morning. Suddenly the bag didn't seem to have enough toys in. John looked at Sherlock. "You leaving?" He asked, just sounding curious, not the accusatory tone I thought he would use. Sherlock sighed. "Yes I'll be back tomorrow, you be good for Lestrade and Mycroft now." John frowned considering then nodded.

"If you be safe" the boy bargained. Sherlock frowned this time then looked at the clock cursing. "Lestrade here's a phone with my number on and Mycroft's encase anything goes wrong." He looked hesitant as if unsure on how to go on; eventually I took pity on him. "You go on John'll be safe here, I'll look after him and Sally will keep an eye out too. And by the way it's Greg, not Lestrade." I admonished him. He looked slightly relieved then bent down to John's level; he eyed the usually hyperactive child warily. "Bye John see you tomorrow" Blue eyes blinked back.

"Bye Sh'lock" he whispered. Sherlock nodded and swept out of the room black coat flying. The moment Sherlock was gone the boys face collapsed in worry. I thought it was just being stuck away from Sherlock until he spoke. "He be okay?" He questioned obviously looking for reassurance. Urgh I hated lying. "Yeh sure he will" I said easily, hating myself. He nodded obviously not believing me. I looked at his toys, "so you wanna play?" I asked. John picked up the bag still clutching the bear and walked over to the corner and started playing quietly. I sat surprised that he wasn't asking me to join in or asking me things. Then shrugged and carried on with my paper work.

I heard a sudden crash and then some colourful curses. I looked up surprised I had been working for about an hour already. I looked down. Dimmock was struggling to his feet having tripped over an army tank, some toy soldiers and a bizarre spinning top. The floor of my office was a war zone, quite literally. It was all very realistically set up, the soldiers were all in tactical positions. A sudden shriek caught our attention. "You bust tank, you killed 5th division" John didn't look at all sorry one of his toys had caused someone to trip over, he was more worried in the plastic soldiers. Dimmock looked up a little red faced with embarrassment. I shrugged and grinned ruefully. "Maybe they've been missiled?" I suggested tentatively. John flashed a look eerily reminiscent of Sherlock's 'I'm surrounded by idiots look'. "Is Civil War." Came the snooty reply. Okay no missiles then.

I looked at the clock then back to the paper work. I hadn't taken a sick leave in quite a while... I eyed the boy, no way was he going to be good all day and it wasn't fair on the kid to play all by himself all day. Decided I stood up and grinned evilly. Who was I going to subject with the unfinished paperwork? Dimmock was still standing there. "Well you did kill the 5th division." I said handing over the files. Dimmock groaned but took them good naturedly. I would have to keep an eye on him for the next week, he was very good at enacting revenge and spiking my coffee was pretty dam easy. "Come on John" I called snagging the toy bag and bundling the child into his jacket and trainers.

Greg groaned. Who knew kids were so hard to keep up with? John was small, even for his age, yet he still managed outstrip Greg. "Timeout" he puffed. The football rolled slowly to a stop next to him followed by a spectacularly muddy, rosy cheeked John. "Can we play rugby now?" John asked. Greg stared. "Rugby?" He questioned. John looked at him as if he was being impossibly slow.

"Rugby, is best game ever" eyes gleaming as he made that statement. Huh, I hadn't picked John for a rugby player, probably a height thing, I quickly stifled the amusement on my face John had tackled the last person to make a crack at his height, when in his adult form. Actually that had looked like a rugby tackle. It was probably best not to underestimate John Watson. John was still looking at him expectantly. "How 'bout we stop for lunch, Eh kiddo?" His face brightened and he nodded eagerly. Happily scampering over to my side. His eyes suddenly widened spotting something behind me. I turned.


End file.
